


With Us In Spirit

by fluffsik



Category: VIXX
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffsik/pseuds/fluffsik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A medium’s job was to help spirits move on.  It was only the right thing to do--they didn’t belong here, were a danger to themselves and others when they lingered.  But sometimes Hongbin couldn’t care less about how much he sucked at his job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Us In Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [dangerkittyn's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dangerkittyn) wontaekbin AU [prompt](https://twitter.com/rataekbin/status/753412544534982656).

“I’m not crazy, really I’m not.” The man was pacing, restless hands twisting one over the other. He was better-dressed than most of Hongbin’s clients, the slightly-disheveled suit a far cry from the usual sweatpants-and-t-shirts look most sported, but that didn’t stop Hongbin’s eyes from watching his feet as he went back and forth, back and forth. Little bits of dried mud were getting on his carpet, and he’d grind it in at the rate he was going.

“I believe you, Mr. Cha,” Hongbin said with his second-brightest smile (some told him that his brightest smile was too distracting in situations like these). “Hauntings in this area are rare, but they still happen, and that’s why I’m here to help. ...Why don’t you sit down?”

Mr. Cha stopped still (thankfully) and stared at him, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to how much sleep the ghost was letting him get at night. “Do you think you can get rid of it?”

They always worded it like this, like the guest was a wasp nest or infestation of termites. Not the echo of some poor soul’s distress lingering in the physical world, a soul too lonely to leave the warmth of a nearby living being. “Of course,” he said instead.

Only then did the man slump into the offered chair, limp and haggard as he dragged a hand through his hair. “I...I hope that’s true…” He paused to take the cup of tea Hongbin offered. Some mediums liked to go all-out with the trappings of their office, beads and incense and all that, but Hongbin didn’t see the point of it. People dealing with hauntings wanted away from anything remotely eerie, and found the simple but tastefully-decorated little office a welcome anchor to ghost-free reality. Besides, beads were tacky and anything stronger than air freshener made his lungs seize up. The ghosts themselves didn’t care either way.

“You’ve been through a lot, Mr. Cha, but you can rest easy soon. I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

Three cups of tea later and some small talk about the new bookstore that had opened a block away and his client was on his way, still rumpled and drawn but a little less jittery than before. Hongbin drew a long breath. The man had been one of his more polite clients that week, but it was too easy to pick up on their nerves. Something about reminding him of how jumpy he’d been when he first started dabbling in all of this.

Hongbin grabbed the shoulder bag he kept stocked with necessities (matches, a spare inhaler, flashlights for the spirits that liked to mess with the power) and not-so-necessities (a medallion to soothe more superstitious clients) and started towards the door. He frowned at the dried mud on the carpet, but it would have to wait.

A rattling to one side halted him just short of reaching for the handle. The coat rack was moving--wobbling in place despite the still air, slight at first but faster and faster until the rack was rocking violently back and forth, threatening to fling its coats to the ground with each tip. Hongbin watched with crossed arms, nonplussed. When one last tip threatened to knock the stand over completely, he caught it with one hand and grabbed the coat as it finally slipped towards the ground.

“I’m not going to forget my coat, Wonsik.”

 _It’s snowing outside._ The words shaped themselves in his mind, along with a pout, somehow.

Hongbin laughed, tugging the coat over his shoulders. “I was the one always having to remind _you_ to dress warmly, remember? Like that time you wore a tank top to the haunting at the ice rink--”

The pout intensified. _Someone has to look out for you._

Hongbin deflated. “I’m okay, I promise. I appreciate the thought. Just...don’t worry.” One hand twitched, as if to reflexively reach and touch--he clenched the hand into a fist. Old habits die hard. He gave a forced smile, the brightest kind. “You’re supposed to be free of all worries now, remember?”

 _You act like worrying for you is a burden._ A sudden chill washed over him, but Hongbin smiled. The sensation was familiar--the mortal and supernatural worlds brushing too close, a spirit and a living body touching. Usually, a medium’s worst nightmare. But in his world, he recognized it as Wonsik’s version of a hug. _Worrying about the snow, but you’re doing that?_ died on his tongue--the corporeal Wonsik fairly _withered_ without touch, and the last thing he wanted to do was discourage him from the attempt.

Instead, Hongbin shot a sharp glance to the empty air. “At least you waited until he left, this time. Unlike last week.”

_That was an accident!_

“An accident that happened right when she started flirting with me. If I didn’t know how clumsy you’ve always been, I wouldn’t believe it.”

Laughter. _You know I don’t get jealous._

Hongbin snorted. “Speaking of which, where’s Taekwoon?

_Playing with the neighbor cats._

“I should have known. If he had his way before, I’m sure he would have spent all his time over there and let us solve cases on our own.” It was the only way he could talk about before. Quips, jokes. Anything else made his throat tighten and his eyes burn--and long before that point, Wonsik would start crying (and make the power go out).

But for now, there was just that little shiver of a laugh, a poor echo from the deep hearty voice it used to be. _She’s on vacation all week--I don’t think we’re going to be able to get him to leave._

“Well he’ll have to. I have a kid he needs to talk to.” Hongbin waved a beckoning hand and started towards the door.

 _I can talk to kids too!_ The imagined voice was nervous, excited--then faded into a bashful giggle as Hongbin turned the doorknob and stepped out the way with a little bow. It was always worth the inward cringing Hongbin had to fight back each time.

The hallways of the building were always quiet this time of the evening, after the rush of thoroughly normal people went home after a day of thoroughly normal work. Even so, Hongbin never risked talking aloud when outside his office. One-sided conversations were weird enough to watch, and “I’m just having a conversation with the ghost of my boyfriend” wasn’t much better of an explanation. _You always get so nervous, Wonsik,_ he thought instead. _It’s like they smell your fear and mess with you even more._

 _You’d think they’d respect a senior ghost,_ Wonsik moped.

When they left the building, only the faintest dust of snowflakes was still falling, melting against the damp sidewalk as soon as they touched the ground. Still, Hongbin shivered and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked. Just outside the neighbor’s yard, he stopped short as something tugged at his scarf.

To the average person, invisible forces fussing with one’s clothes would be the stuff of nightmares, reason to plunge into a panic and (hopefully, for his bank account) hunt down someone like Hongbin to hire. But Hongbin just stood, still and obedient, as the ends of his scarf lifted to loop again around his neck, then tuck into his closing jacket.

“Hi, Taekwoon,” said Hongbin. He could feel the pink in his cheeks rising and hoped the others would just chalk it up to the cold. After all these years it wasn’t fair that he still got flustered around Taekwoon.

 _You’re going to catch cold._ The words forming in his mind were quiet and delicate, something even the most experienced mediums would strain to hear.

 _That’s what I was telling him!_ Wonsik brushed against him again, and Hongbin tried not to hug the jacket tighter.

“Okay, okay, I’ll wear three jackets next time.” Another little burst of giggles from Wonsik, and the leaves on the sidewalk spun and swirled without a breath of wind. The tiniest little things always could set him off.

“So--Taekwoon? I need your help with something--”

 _He’s not paying attention anymore,_ interrupted Wonsik. And sure enough, a rustle in the bushes heralded half a dozen cats--fat, fluffy, slightly damp from the weather--crawling over the fence and scurrying towards the sidewalk. It would probably be kind of creepy to an onlooker, especially the way they suddenly curved to swirl around a pocket of empty air (except for a distracted kitten pouncing on leaves). To Hongbin, it was nothing short of _nauseatingly_ cute.

“Ms. Park is going to be jealous,” he quipped.

 _They like me much more than Ms. Park._ An old tabby reared on its hind legs and purred.

More laughter, warm enough to soothe the sharp air biting at Hongbin’s ears. _Ideal, isn’t it? Cats can see him but people can’t. What more could a Taekwoon ask for?_

_Dogs._

_Oh...it is too bad about the dogs..._

The kitten quickly grew bored of the leaves and rubbed against Hongbin’s leg. Hongbin hunched down and let it nuzzle against his hand, purring. “This one likes me the best.”

 _No she doesn’t,_ came the sharp reply, and Hongbin just laughed. Sure enough, the kitten broke away to pounce on a pine needle dragged by an invisible force across the path.

“A man visited today,” Hongbin began again. “He told me all sorts of strange things.”

Sure enough, the pine needle stilled. _What kind of things?_ Phrase it the right way, and even a cat-distracted Taekwoon was ever the attentive boyfriend, ready to listen to him ramble about his day.

“His tv turns on by itself, there’s lots of banging and clattering whenever it’s quiet, designs will appear on dusty surfaces, like little doodles. Except he keeps everything dusted, so something gets into his flour to throw it around and _then_ doodles in it.”

 _It sounds like just a kid…_ The tremor in Taekwoon’s voice showed Hongbin he had his full attention now.

“Sounds bored, doesn’t it? Or lonely…”

_\--Can I go with you? You know you’re useless with kids._

“Hey! Whatever happened to asking nicely?”

_It’s either me or you’re stuck with Wonsik._

_Don’t be mean!_

Hongbin just turned with a laugh, glancing at the setting sun. “Come on, let’s go before the kid knocks down a wall or something.”

A medium’s job was to help spirits move on. It was only the right thing to do--they didn’t belong here, were a danger to themselves and others when they lingered. Everyone knew some cautionary tale or another of mediums who thought they could make exceptions. But with a mind full of their chatter--now turned warm, Taekwoon fawning over Wonsik enough to make Hongbin cringe--he couldn’t care less about how much he sucked at his job.


End file.
